All of the Kings In A Row
by M14Mouse
Summary: Episode Tag: Sam, Interrupted: That whole bury your anger thing may work for Dean…but it doesn't work for him.


All of the Kings in a Row

By: M14Mouse

Summary: Episode Tag: Sam, Interrupted: That whole bury your anger thing may work for Dean…but it doesn't work for him.

Disclaimer: Don't own them….expect Pastor Elijah.

Sam wasn't quite sure how he ended up here.

He sure in hell didn't want to be here.

He stared at the mortar, red bricks, and well-manicured gardens. The large white columns didn't seem forbearing. It was almost welcoming.

He was wondering when the bolt of lightening would come down from the sky and hit him.

"You know, the church doesn't bite," An amusing voice said from behind him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned around then he had to look down. The guy wasn't a midget but he was short. It was funny. He could almost hear Dean's voice cracking jokes about the man's height.

He gave the guy a quick look over. His mind quickly categorized everything about the man. He was about 5'8 in height. His age was harder to come by…maybe 25. Black dress jacket, pants, and white shirt…crisp…like he just ironed them. Bright red hair, blue eyes…very pale skin…like that he didn't get outside in awhile. His eyes caught a little gold cross hanging around his neck. He didn't have to guess much on who he is.

"Maybe, I should rephrase my sentence. I don't bite either," the guy with amusement.

"I'm sorry, Father…I really don't belong here."

"Says who?"

He blinked for a moment and the words stumbled out of his mouth.

"I…no…I mean…"

How in the world does he explain this without sounding crazy? Wait…that is right. He already did crazy. He still had the wrist band in the car.

He had no clue if he wanted to laugh or cry at that little fact.

"The House of God doesn't have a sign saying that it doesn't allow impossible tall people."

No, just for guys who started the end of the world.

"I…you wouldn't understand, Father. I have done things…bad things…"

A glare cut off his sentence. What the guy lacked in height, obviously made up in his glare.

"Perhaps so…but you have been staring at the church for last ten minutes. You have something on your mind."

"I…I should be..."

"Fine…if you don't want to talk here…then there is somewhere else we can talk," the man huffed.

"I can't….my brother…"

"Your brother can wait over a cup of coffee yes?

-SPNSPN-

Dean would be laughing if he was here.

He was sitting in a booth, in a small coffee house, and drinking a cup of tea with a priest who he barely knew. He sighed softly as he took a sip of his coffee. The coffee was good. It wasn't like the stuff he got normally. It was nice and funny.

He got intimated by a guy nearly a foot and a half shorter than him.

Scratch that…Dean would be rolling on the floor…laughing.

"This place is much better than Starbucks. I'm going miss this place," the priest said.

He blinked in surprise.

"You are leaving?"

"Yes….I am a traveling pastor. I'm heading to South Carolina next week. I miss the Southern food...bruised ribs. Not so much."

"Okay…you are going to have to explain that one."

"Three hundred pound woman hugging you. You get the picture."

He winced slightly but the image was funny. He pressed his lips together to prevent a smile from forming. The pastor's eyes sparked with amusement as he watched him.

"Smile all you want. I can imagine you getting crushed too."

A small laugh burst from his lips.

"It is good to hear you laugh. You are too tense."

He felt his body tense up at the words.

"And now, you are doing it again. Drink your tea and then we will talk."

"I don't want to…"

Then the glare came again. Very strangely…it reminded him of one of Bobby's looks when him and Dean pissed him off in some ways. He forced the cup back to his lips and forced himself to take a sip. The pastor continued to watch him carefully.

"My name is Elijah."

"Sam."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sam."

He wished he could say the same. The guy made him tense and nervous. Normally, he would feel the familiar flames of angry start to stir. Right now, he was tired.

Just tired.

"You lose someone, didn't you?"

He nearly dropped his cup.

"How did you know…?"

"You carry your grief in your shoulders."

He blinked at the pastor. He had no clue how the response. The pastor just stared at him before he spoke again.

"I wish to say it is from years of service but it isn't."

"What happened?"

The pastor paused for a moment. For a moment, he seemed to be lost in thought.

"My sister died about five years ago…right before I entered the service. My brother was less than pleased with that. We tore each other apart in a way only brothers can. I wasn't a very happy pastor at my first church. Not that anyone notice. I buried my angry and grief. Well, I thought I did."

His words sounded so familiar…it almost caused an ache in his chest.

"Until another pastor pulled me to the side and said, "Son, you are too small to have your shorts in a twist like that. You and me are going duck hunting. That didn't end. I realized I was terrible with a shotgun…and couldn't hit a duck if it was right in front of me. Lucky for the ducks."

A small chuckle escaped his lips. The pastor titled his head and grinned slightly.

"So…you are suggesting I shot ducks."

"No…God…no…I'm suggesting…Well…if you think shooting ducks will help. But…no, I am suggesting that you deal with your anger."

He almost wanted to leave right there and then. He didn't want to be lectured by anyone especially this guy.

"And not at me."

His body paused in motion.

"And what do you suggest? I bury it and lock it away? Sounds like Dad…Lucifer…Dean. I am fucking tired of it. I am tired of being angry all of the time. I am tired of it burning through me like a wild fire. I am just plain tired of it," He snapped.

He blinked for a moment. Oh, shit. He realized he was standing and screaming at the pastor. He had finally snapped. Maybe, he should turn back around and headed to where they were. It became clear that he wasn't all there. He wanted to laugh. His brother's words echoed though his head.

Bury it and lock it away. How he wished he could do that.

"Sit down, Sam."

He was surprised that the pastor wasn't running for the hills. He was calm as if his little outburst meant nothing. His eyes narrowed slightly and mumbled a Chirsto.

No reaction. The pastor just stared at him. Then he tilted his head and his eye brow shot up. His body collapsed on the seat. The pastor's glance turned from him to somewhere else. He didn't need to look up to know who was staring at him. God, he should have left when he had the chance.

Their silence turned into a moment…then a minute…then five. The pastor was just gave him this pensive look. He wanted the guy to say something…anything.

"Look, Father…I'm…."

"Sorry? Sam, I am a pastor. It comes with the job description. I have people mad at me all of the time. It is God's fault…their wife, mother, daughter, sister, brother, and the list goes on and on. Most of the time, they are angry not only with the person…but at themselves."

"Sucky job description."

"Some days, it really is. But most of the time, people just want to vent or to have a listening ear."

"…Because you are a pastor."

"Heavens, no…I knew a pastor that would fall asleep during those sessions…He would used those screens for the purpose of his flock never knowing that he was asleep. No, I do it because the people need it."

A soft chuckle softly escaped his lips.

"So it is normal for you?"

"There is no such thing as normal. Normal is a status quo that change on moment's notice."

He laughed at that. Pastor won a point for that but the little debater in him rose his head.

"Well…that depends on the person who talk too. Some believe that norms are enforced by the rich and powerful. Some believe that society guilt people into to conforming."

"Someone took a Sociology class in school."

"Deviance class."

It was an enlightening class to see what people thought was deviance acts and not. Now, he wondered what people would have thought about his deviant behaviors of digging up graves and fake ids.

"Hmm…interesting."

He sighed as he stood up from the table. As much as he enjoyed the conversation with the pastor, this place was starting to make his skin crawl and tighten up against his body. The pastor dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He set it on the table.

"You can call me at anytime…expect at 5 in the morning. I haven't had my coffee yet."

He picked up the card then stuffed it into his pocket. He had serious thoughts about just tossing the card. He will do it later. He stood up again.

"Thank you, Father. I must be going. My brother is probably waiting. Good-bye," He said as he got up and he didn't look back.

"Good-bye, Sam. It was nice to meet you, man. And Sam?" The pastor said.

"Yes?"

"Those bad things?"

He half expected the guy to tell him that they aren't as bad as it seemed. But the answer surprised him.

"Yes?"

"Are you doing anything about them?"

Stopping the end of the world and trying to hold it together himself and his brother.

"Yes."

"Then you are doing more than most people ever did."

-SPNSPN-

Elijah watched Sam from the window. He turned left and disappeared down the street. He turned away from the window and sighed. He bowed his head and said a small prayer.

"Father, guide him and protect him."

Even if Sam never called him, it was the least he could do was offer.

End

A/N: The idea for this fic came to me when someone commented on a message board about Sam being isolated during Season 5. I was going to write into to much longer fic but that didn't happen. I sort of liked how it turned out. Read and review if you wish.


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